


My Name Is Broken

by Reyka_Sivao



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Character Death, F/F, Gay, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Lesbian, Lesbian Character, Lesbians in Space, POV Lesbian Character, Pon Farr, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Sapphic, Vulcan, Vulcan Biology, Vulcan Culture, Vulcan Kisses, Vulcan Language, Vulcan Lesbians, Vulcan Mind Melds, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyka_Sivao/pseuds/Reyka_Sivao
Summary: Long before Kirk and SpockLong before SurakSame-sex Vulcan lovers lived and died.(Nano project in progress, may be edited. Will add tags/warnings as they come up.)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A tale of early Vulcan lesbians.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this prologue sounds familiar that’s probably because I stole it from my Vulcan poetry collection

Prologue 

Pushau ahm t’nash-veh

Pushau ahm t’du 

Pushau shila-tellar 

Pushau fna’ashau. 

Aitlu ta nam-tor natya 

Aitlu ta kup fun-tor

Hi ki’teral goh etek 

Heh kwon-sum teretuhr. 

My name is broken

Your name is broken

The social bonds are broken

Broken because we love.

I wish that things were different 

I wish we could return

But we have joined, only us 

And always will be together 

—T’Kora, about her lover T’Pinu, c. 2750 BCE (Federation Calendar)

In one of the earliest recorded indisputable examples of a same-sex bonded couple, T’Kora and T’Pinu publically declared their love for each other and were subsequently shunned from their community. Earlier historians have referred to them without the t’ prefix, as would have been customary at the time for women not bonded to a man, but as these are the names the women used for each other, it is now considered better practice to use these names. Indeed, this is at the heart of this particular poem from T’Kora’s collection: “My name is broken” refers to the loss of the bonded prefix.


	2. Childhood

Na’kan-kwel 

Ken-tor pi. 

To’oveh

Prah fai-tukh

Heh pak-tor

Mesh-fam’es

In childhood 

I knew little. 

The adult

Gains knowledge 

And loses

Shamelessness

C. 2800 BCE (Federation standard calendar)

The sharp wind threw dust in Kora’s eyes as she stepped out the door behind the tall figure of her mother. It was only just dawn, and the red line of the rising sun had only just begun to spread across the horizon, and true air was still chilled from the night’s touch. 

She drew her cloak more tightly around herself and took a deep breath. 

It was the day of Pinu’s bonding, and Kora wasn’t sure why her chest ached. 

The sand made the same soft sounds it always did as the crossed toward the center of the village. Many of the other attendees had already arrived, standing silently as they waited for the ceremony to begin. 

In the center of the loose circle, the two children already stood in front of an empty dais. Pinu, with her hair done up in too many braids, wearing a dress just a little too fine for everyday wear; and across from her, the boy who had been chosen from a neighboring village to be her bondmate. Kora couldn’t remember his name and found she didn’t care to. 

There was the slight murmur of soft voices that quickly faded to nothing as the sound of bells began to approach.

On an open litter carried by two men sat the clan matriarch T’Zhen, looking regal in her flowing robes and elaborate headpiece. Kora stood a little straighter without meaning to. 

The men set down the litter on the dais and stepped away. 

“Pinu, daughter of T’Rashu. Sfenn, son of Vonik. Come forward.

Both children obeyed. Pinu’s hand trembled, and Kora’s throat tightened. 

“As it has been since the time of the beginning, thy families have chosen you for one another. When the time comes, you will meet at the appointed place.”

She reached forward and, with each hand, touched the children’s faces. All three inhaled in unison. For a long moment, the tableau held. 

T’Zhen let her hands fall. “It is done. Sfenn, T’Pinu, always and never, touching and touched. May you live long and prosper.”

T’Pinu and Sfenn turned to face each other and raised their hands to touch fingers for a moment before separating and turning to face the surrounding people.

Wordlessly, the attendees turned and began filing toward the tables set up nearby, laden with the bonding feast.

Kora hung back a little as her mother moved away, waiting for T’Pinu to come closer.

Words of congratulations, carefully set into memory, died in her throat.

“T’Pinu,” she said instead. 

“Yes,” said T’Pinu simply. 

Their eyes met for a moment, and then Kora stopped at the table and took a cup of water.

“My friend,” said Kora, and offered T’Pinu the cup. 


	3. Things That Are Not For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T’Kora attends her cousin’s wedding

Kun-ut 

Sa-telsu 

Ko-vath-ashau

Vellar 

Ta na’du

Ri na’nash-veh

Ko-veh

Ashaya

Ri sada-tor

Marriage

A husband 

Female straight love 

Things that 

Are for you

And not for me

Her love

I do not

Turn away from that 

  
C. 2790 (Federation standard calendar)

T’Kora took a deep breath, and smoothed the dress down her body. It did nothing to hide her breasts or hips, which, as her mother said approvingly, her bondmate would one day appreciate. 

T’Kora inhaled and carefully set that thought aside. 

Today was not that day. 

Today was the marriage of her cousin T’Fara, and she had been asked to attend. 

She inhaled deeply and stood up straight. M

The ceremony was simple and straightforward. T’Kora followed the bridal party to the place of kal-if-fee. T’Fara’s bondmate stood there waiting, already shaking, surrounded by his closest friends. 

The groom stepped forward to strike the gong, and T’Kora felt her teeth ache before he even touched it, and made a point to unclench her jaw. 

The gong sounded, and T’Kora bit her tongue without meaning to. Her cousin regally stepped forward and took the hammer to strike the gong herself and seal the marriage. 

When the gong sounded again, T’Kora let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and carefully watched as the masked guards led T’Fara and her new husband towards the place of consummation. 

T’Kora turned away.

Not today.

Not today. 


	4. In sickness

Na’has-mar

Katau n’mohk

Na’mu’gel

Katau n’yai

Na’tushat

Katau n’kar

Na’tal-kam

Katau n’ek

In sickness 

I bring comfort 

In the darkness 

I bring a flame 

In grief

I bring my arms

To my dear 

I bring all 

—

2780 (Federation Standard Calendar)

—

T’Kora carefully carried the covered pot of plomeek soup through the empty village center and toward T’Pinu’s house. Her friend was sick, and she wished to offer comfort. 

T’Pinu lay on her bed, swaddled in blankets like an infant. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Sfenn is cold.”

T’Kora carefully sat down on the edge of the bed and offered T’Pinu a spoonful of the hot soup. 

“Eat,” she said simply. 

T’Pinu eyed the spoon for a moment while several responses passed through her eyes...and then with a defeated sigh she untangled one hand from the blankets and took it. 

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

T’Pinu untangled the other hand and took the whole bowl and drank from it. 

“I don’t like being cold.”

T’Kora reached out and brushed her hand along the blanket over T’Pinu’s shoulder. 

“Nor do I,” she said. “Would that I could warm you.” 

T’Pinu cradled the warm bowl and stared into it.

“....T’Pinu?” said T’Kora after a moment too long had passed. 

T’Pinu didn’t answer, nor did her eyes move or focus. 

Her hands let the bowl slip nervelessly through them and she slumped in slow motion into the coverlet. 

“T’Pinu!”

Before she could truly be said to have decided on a course of action, she had already reached out and brought her hand to T’Pinu’s meld points. 

The world faded, and for a moment, only the two of them existed. 

A jagged edge tore at the boundaries of T’Pinu’s mind. For a long moment, T’Kora did not recognize it, but then, she understood. 

Sfenn. 

T’Pinu’s bondmate should have existed in that corner of her mind, but he was gone. He had suddenly died, and the broken bond had snapped back towards T’Pinu’s mind. 

T’Kora took a deep breath in her barely-present body and then breathed it into T’Pinu’s soul. 

Warmth, she offered. Comfort. Life. The present and not the broken future. 

Slowly, T’Pinu pulled back from the void she had been suddenly jerked towards. 

In physical reality, her eyes finally fluttered back open. 

“T’Kora,” she managed. 

Her bondmate was gone. By all rights, this should mean she reverted to her childhood name. 

“T’Pinu,” said T’Kora softly as she dropped her hand. 


	5. Your Sweat Glistens

Grau wadashaya

Yumau isachya

Farr-dath-tor khaf-spol 

Ko-abrukhau tu

Your sweat glistens 

Your hair flows 

Heart pounds in rhythm 

She dominates me.

—

There was a sharp crack as one lirpa hit the other. 

The blades were blunted for sparring, but still, both T’Kora and Pinu wore leather armor in the traditional style, under the ribs on their right sides, protecting their hearts. 

Pinu spun out of the blocked strike and continued the motion all the way around. The single long braid she wore arced as she moved. 

T’Kora watched it for an instant too long. 

Pinu finished out the spin with a strike that she fully expected T’Kora to block, but it hit T’Kora across the ribs and sent her flying toward the ground. 

Pinu let the lirpa fall. “Are you well?” she asked in concern, reaching toward T’Kora with one hand, but T’Kora’s eyes were trained on the hand that brushed a stray strand of hair from Pinu’s dark eyes. 

“I…” said T’Kora, and found she’d forgotten the question. “I...am uninjured,” she managed.

She grasped the hand that Pinu offer to pull herself up. 

She should have strengthened her shields before she touched her. Kaiidth. 

The moment their fingers touched, sparks of some unnameable emotion coursed between them. 

T’Kora pulled herself to her feet, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to let go...and Pinu did not pull away. 

They stood locked in a single ineffable moment for longer than either could justify. 

When they broke apart, they did it as one. 

“My mother has found a new bondmate for me,” said Pinu. 

Several responses cycled through T’Kora’s mind. Congratulations died before they even formed. Nor did she bother to ask who. 

“When is the ceremony?” 

“Next season.”

The silence stretched out again. 

“I will be there.”

“I know.” Pinu looked down, and then away. “Shall we go another round?”

Wordlessly, T’Kora picked up her fallen lirpa and moved to a ready stance. 

But all she could see was the single shining bead of sweat making its way down Pinu’s cheek like a tear. 


	6. No control

Ri shaula

Ri tash

Nash-wadi

Ri shai 

Kuv sanu 

Ri ma 

N’yontaya

Na’du

No control

No grasp

This skin

Not mine

If, please

Don’t have

This burning 

From you 

—

She began to feel it with the turning of the season. 

As the heat of midsummer faded, the restlessness grew: a kind of need to move and do and act and never hold still. It grew with her, entwined with her every moment, so much a part of her consciousness that she could not perceive it. 

Until she did. 

She was pouring a small bowl of midday meal soup when a little spilled, and she nearly threw it against the wall in frustration. 

Her mother nodded in something like satisfaction. “Your bondmate will summon you soon.”

The air froze in T’Kora’s lungs. 

She carefully, gently, set the bowl aside. 

“I am not hungry.” 

“You will be.”

It might have been either her trembling hands or the sudden rage that left the bowl of soup on the floor. 

If her mother said anything else, she did not hear it. Nor did she see the hallway toward her room. Nor did she remember the next hour.

The next thing she remembered was staring at the wall, feeling nothing, sensing nothing, wishing nothing. 

If only she could be nothing. 


	7. Escape

Savlaya

Aitlu nash-veh

Savlaya

Sa’le - nash-yai

Savlaya

Ki’putel-tor

Savlaya

Hi she-tor rok 

Escape 

I desire 

Escape

Away - This flame

Escape 

I have been bound

Escape 

But hope ascends.

—

She sat in the sand, waiting. 

Her life was over, and only the waiting remained. 

Pale grains slipped between her fingers like the seconds she had left to hold on to. 

Behind her, a figure came up. 

“You do not want me.”

Carefully, T’Kora made no response at all to the accusation. 

Her betrothed bondmate sat heavily in the sand. Tyven looked at her, but she would not meet him. 

He sighed heavily. 

“I know you,” he said. “You would give anything to escape me.”

T’Kora inhaled. “I would not have chosen any other.”

“You would have chosen Pinu.”

For the first time, T’Kora turned her head enough to meet his gaze. 

“Even were I unbonded, how could I choose her?”

“Your heart is filled with her. Your mind longs for her touch. Your words sing of her alone.”

T’Kora looked away again. 

Tyven sighed again. 

“I wish there were another way.”

“As do I.”

Tyven stood, but instead of leaving, he came around and stood before her. 

Reluctantly, T’Kora looked up. 

He was holding something out to her. 

She looked first at his stony eyes, and then at the object in his hands. 

A knife glinted copper in his hands. 

She looked at it, and then looked at him. 

“For me?” she said. 

“If you die, we both die. If I die, you live.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and she could not look away. Then he reached out to take her hand, and wrapped her fingers around the hilt. 

“Tomorrow.”

Before she could respond, he was gone. 


	8. Warmth

Lamekh t’du

Ka’a yuk-sai

Ha’gel t’du

Ka’a yonet 

Eshan t’du

Ka’a salan

Estuhl t’du 

Naha’kivau 

Your warmth

Like a blanket

Your light 

Like a lamp

Your breath

Like the wind

Your touch

Revives me

—

Pinu’s door was cold under her knock. 

It opened too soon. 

Pinu met her eyes, and without asking, opened the door for her. 

T’Kora sank into the nearest chair, staring at nothing, still gripping the knife in her hand. 

Pinu disappeared for a moment, and when she returned, she pressed a cup of tea into T’Kora’s free hand. 

“Speak,” she said. 

“Tyven said I would choose you.”

Pinu looked at her, and then looked at the knife. “I am not a man.”

“No.”

There was silent for a long moment. 

“Drink,” said Pinu. 

T’Kora raised the cup to her lips, but could only bring herself to consume a few drops. 

“If I did,” she said. 

Pinu looked at the wall. 

“You know I could never refuse you.”

“Even if we were alone.”

“I could never be alone with you.”

T’Kora gripped the knife tighter. 

“I will be summoned tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“I do not wish to be alone.”

Pinu disappeared around the corner for a few seconds, and returned with a blanket. 

T’Kora looked at her, and then moved to the side. 

Pinu sat beside T’Kora and spread the blanket over the both of them to ward off the growing night’s chill. “Would you speak or be silent?”

“Silence with you is more than a thousand words with any other.”

“Then let tomorrow bring what it will.”


	9. Warmth

Lamekh t’du

Ka’a yuk-sai

Ha’gel t’du

Ka’a yonet 

Eshan t’du

Ka’a salan

Estuhl t’du 

Naha’kivau 

Your warmth

Like a blanket

Your light 

Like a lamp

Your breath

Like the wind

Your touch

Revives me

—

Pinu’s door was cold under her knock. 

It opened too soon. 

Pinu met her eyes, and without asking, opened the door for her. 

T’Kora sank into the nearest chair, staring at nothing, still gripping the knife in her hand. 

Pinu disappeared for a moment, and when she returned, she pressed a cup of tea into T’Kora’s free hand. 

“Speak,” she said. 

“Tyven said I would choose you.”

Pinu looked at her, and then looked at the knife. “I am not a man.”

“No.”

There was silent for a long moment. 

“Drink,” said Pinu. 

T’Kora raised the cup to her lips, but could only bring herself to consume a few drops. 

“If I did,” she said. 

Pinu looked at the wall. 

“You know I could never refuse you.”

“Even if we were alone?”

“I could never be alone with you.”

T’Kora gripped the knife tighter. 

“I will be summoned tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“I do not wish to be alone.”

Pinu disappeared around the corner for a few seconds, and returned with a blanket. 

T’Kora looked at her, and then moved to the side. 

Pinu sat beside T’Kora and spread the blanket over the both of them to ward off the growing night’s chill. “Would you speak or be silent?”

“Silence with you is more than a thousand words with any other.”

“Then let tomorrow bring what it will.”


	10. This blood

Nash-plak

Na’el-ru

Rasath

Na’katra

Tevakh

Na’ha’kiv

This blood 

On my hands

This weight 

On my soul

This death

For my life

—

The elaborate braids were heavy on her head. The dress was too formal, too fine. The knife was hidden under her hem. 

The gong sounded, and her feet began to follow the rest of the wedding party almost of their own accord. 

Every step was perfect. Every movement was exactly as expected of a daughter of Vulcan. And T’Kora herself was a thousand miles away from any of it. 

The place of kun-ut kal-if-fee came into sight, and Tyven stood there, waiting. 

She took the place expected of her. 

Tyven looked eyes with her and raised his arm as though to strike the gong again, but paused. 

It was like a dream. 

With a supreme effort, T’Kora moved. 

Three steps. An arm raised. 

“Kal-if-fee.”

It was not a statement of definiance. It was almost a whisper of defeat. 

There was a moment of dead silence. 

“Thou hast chosen the kal-if-fee. Art though prepared to become the property of the victor?”

T’Kora closed her eyes. 

“I will be my own champion.”

There was another silence. 

“So it shall be.”

One of the attendants stepped forward to wrap Tyven in the traditional purple belt. Others came forward to offer each of them the lirpa. 

They all stepped back, and T’Kora was left facing Tyven under the judging eyes of both their clans. 

He too looked at her. Sorrow filled his eyes, but something like peace, too. 

Without losing her gaze—slowly, deliberately—Tyven dropped the lirpa. A murmur went through the crowd. 

T’Kora bent and carefully laid her own on the ground as well. 

Tyven closed his eyes and knelt in the hot sand. 

T’Kora took one step forward, then two. Part of her rejected her own actions. 

She raised one hand, and touched it gently to the side of his face—the last gift she could give him. 

“I remember.”

Tyven exhaled, and with it his living katra slipped through her fingertips and into her mind. 

Before she could convince herself otherwise, T’Kora slipped the knife from under her dress and found the place under his ribs where his heart lived. 

The greenish patina on the hilt consumed the majority of her consiousness. The green blood that poured from his side under her hand only barely registered. 

Slowly, the gaze that Tyven kept locked on her faded into emptiness. His empty body remained only a few seconds longer. 

He fell, and she let the knife remain in the air, displaying his blood for all comers. 

She took a breath, and the air seemed somehow more free than ever before. 

“I am my own,” she said. 

The matriarch looked at her without seeming to see her. 

“By the laws of our people, you may choose your own destiny.”

“May I, then?”

T’Kora turned to face those who watched her. 

“T’Pinu,” she said, deliberately. 

T’Pinu stepped forward. 

“Will you be my wife?”

The murmur escalated to a mild roar in their ears. 

“Always and never, touching and touched.”

T’Pinu stepped forward, locking eyes with T’Kora, and held out her hand, two fingers extended. 

T’Kora breathed in freedom she had never imagined knowing, and reached out to join T’Pinu’s fingers. 

In that moment, she traded ease for beauty, and there was never a sweeter loss


	11. Forge of beauty

Zhuk-fasek 

T’vaksur 

Zhuk-fasek 

T’yon

Zhuk-fasek 

T’yeht’es

Zhuk-fas-tor

K’du

  
Forge of beauty 

Forge of truth 

Forge of fire

Forged with you

—

“It is not our way.”

T’Kora tried to breathe evenly, but her words were clipped. 

“I am here to lay your son’s katra to rest with his ancestors.”

“He should be lying with you.”

“His last gift was my freedom. As mine is his memory.”

The matriarch of Tyven’s clan made no response. 

T’Kora met her gaze, no longer afraid of even death. 

“If you will not accept him, then he will have an honored place in my own household.”

“Your ‘household’ is but an affront to our ways”

“Then I and my wife will allow him our acceptance and our remembrance.”

She bowed her head and turned to go. 

“Wait.”

She looked back without turning all the way. 

“You are no longer of our clan. Return his essence to our care.”

T’Kora closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “As I offered.”

“Come.”

Kneeing, T’Kora offered her face to the matriarch.

Her fingers burned their way into T’Kora’s face with a hate she had only dreamed of. She wanted to pull away, but the pride of her people forced her to stay. 

Tyven’s essence was jerked from her mind. With it, she sent one final farewell with her gratitude. 

“Leave us, Kora.”

T’Kora rose as gracefully as she could manage. 

“I am bonded. My name is T’Kora.”

The matriarch turned away without gracing her with a response. 

T’Kora stood, leaning on her bond with T’Pinu. 

She raised her hand toward the woman’s back. 

“Live long and prosper.”

  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Bezhun t’du

Klimtalik

El’ru t’du

Dan-mitik 

Limuk t’du 

Ha’gwelik

Ha’gel t’du

Ashaya

Your eyes

Are molten

Your hands

Are so gentle

Your face

Is bright

Your light 

Is love

—

T’Kora walked wearily back toward the house that she and T’Pinu now shared. It was her only home now. 

“I have no daughter.”

Her mother’s last words to her rang in her ears still, made all the more bitter by her refusal to make the slightest eye contact. 

The eyes turning away were the new normal, now. Even at the market she had just returned from, even those who would bargain with her would look pointedly at anything but her while they did so. 

T’Kora took another deep breath while she paused before opening the door. 

“Dearest, you have returned to me.”

“Always,” said T’Kora, setting the basket of food she had managed to procure aside and looking up to meet the glory of T’Pinu’s eyes. 

They were dark, with a shine in them like molten metal, and T’Kora drank them in like the sands to spilled water. 

T’Pinu held out her hand, two fingers extended, and T’Kora once again dared to touch them with her own much lighter hand. 

Perhaps it should have meant nothing by now, but the sparks between their skin were as bright and beautiful as ever. 

T’Kora’s vision blurred in spite of herself. 

“Do you weep, beloved?”

“My love for you is like a flame,” said T’Kora. “And they would snuff it out. My love is like the air, and they would choke me.”

T’Pinu smiled a little. 

“Your words, my love, are sweeter than nectar. Will you write them for me?”

“Write them?”

“Yes. Write them for me. Set them in ink that I may never forget.”

“You would be the only one to lay eyes on them.”

“Beloved, if I could show the world the beauty of your words, of your love, I would do it in a heartbeat. But if you and I are the only ones who ever bask in that light, then that will be enough.”

T’Kora smiled through the blur of tears. “Perhaps it is you who should write your love.”

“If you ask, I will. But you play with words like a harp, and it would do a disservice to the music of words to let them die.”

“Anything for you, my wife. Anything you ask.”


End file.
